


In the Backseat

by Lila82



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lila82/pseuds/Lila82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus goes on the run with Hope; Caroline comes along for the ride and does some healing of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

  
_“My family tree, is losing all its leaves.”_  


Caroline dreams of that night, moonlight in her hair and a warm mouth moving over her body. She wakes to the memory of grass scraping the fragile skin of her spine, strong fingers gripping her hips, hard, slick heat pulsing inside her. She opens her eyes, searches for the moon in the dark recesses of her bedroom. There are stars in her sky, dingy and faded in the years since her father helped her put them up. It was the last thing they did together before he walked out of her life. She longs for the stars to glitter, to illuminate the pale softness of her skin and the sharp bite of smooth, white teeth. She longs for the scratch of rough hands on her belly, the rasp of a beard against her cheek, pinpricks of starlight glimmering in his eyes. But there’s only the dull glow of plastic stars, a thin trickle of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Caroline’s alone in the bed, in her empty house, silent but for the wind whistling through the trees outside her window, a house absent of a heartbeat in the room down the hall.

She falls back on her pillows, sweaty sheets tangling around her hips, presses the heels of her hands to her eyes and rubs hard. She’s in the woods, pushed against a tree so the bark digs into her back. Klaus grins at her, naked and feral in the inky night, long and lean as his body wraps around hers.

Her fingers trail lower, following the same path as his hands, his mouth, the slide of his tongue. She lets out a low moan, arching off the bed. It’s the only time she can forget that her mom is well and truly dead.

 

* * *

 

Caroline hasn’t left the house in days, her hair greasy and matted about her head. It’s pulled back in a messy ponytail, loose strands falling about her face, a good match for the threadbare sweatpants with the torn hem that trails behind her as she slides across the floor, tripped her up when she stumbled to bed a few nights back. She’d cracked her head on the coffee table and cut her hand on the shattered bottle of scotch she’d landed on. She’d finished it earlier that night, the gin and beer too, and crouched on the hard floor staring at the wound as it healed itself. She’d picked up a shard of glass, sliced open her hand and watched it close, again and again, relished in the bite of the glass, the sting of her tears as they landed on the cut, her body aching the way her heart already did.

There’s no booze left in the house so Caroline makes tea, breathes in deep to let the steam fill her pores. It’s cleansing, after the week she’s had, filters out the film of death that clings like a bad smell. She takes a small sip of tea despite the heat, rolls the citrus on her tongue, and swallows thickly. It reminds her of pigtails and lace-trimmed nightgowns, legs swinging under the kitchen table because they were too short to reach the linoleum floor. It reminds her of being young – small – of a time when she never imagined she’d be on her own. Her fingers tighten around the mug, knuckles locking even as the ceramic shatters and steaming tea hisses against her bare skin. 

It takes a few seconds to notice, the broken mug at her feet, the pool of tea creeping across the floor, and she blinks back tears and storms off to find a broom. No one’s there to scold her about the mess, but she goes anyway, her mom’s voice replaying in her head. It makes her feel a little less alone.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t answer the doorbell the first time it rings. She can hear the heartbeat, soft but steady, and she’s more prepared to face a human than her friends – the people she _loves_ – but there’s no guarantee she won’t pounce the moment the door opens. It’s a man, she can tell. There’s a heavy tread of boots on her porch, a thin whiff of pine seeping through the knotted wood, and her forehead falls forward to rest against the closed door. Stefan she was expecting, Tyler too, and even a nosy visit from Damon, but she never predicted Klaus. She glances at the hall table where an arrangement of orchids and gladioli used to spill over the lip of a vase, a hint of the tropics still teasing her nose even though the flowers have long since withered and died.

“Caroline,” he calls, draws out her name in a way that makes her skin feel tight. “Open up.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and ignores his request. “Go away,” she says, winces at the petulant tone of her voice. In his presence, she always seems to turn into the teenager she was when she met him. 

“I know you’re in there.”

Caroline fixes a glare at the closed door, like Klaus’s developed x-ray vision along with eternal life and super speed. “Please love,” he says, his voice dropping to a low plea. “We need you.”

She scoffs, prepares to call him out for the liar that he is, but then she remembers the heartbeat, still beating evenly on the other side of the door, and she realizes he isn’t lying about bringing company. Slowly, she opens the door to let him in.

He looks as she remembers, long and lean with a thick layer of stubble coating his jaw. His eyes gleam as he takes her in, the messy hair and ragged cardigan, and she’d probably be embarrassed, or staring slack-jawed at the site of his handsome face, if not for his companion. There’s a laughing baby in his arms, with blue eyes and a fringe of dark blonde hair curling away from her face. 

Caroline knows about her of course, heard the stories from Tyler once he escaped Marcel Gerard’s “garden.” She’d felt something curl in her belly, hot and mocking and a lot like jealousy. She’d swallowed it down, focused on having Tyler back in her life, ignored how it felt like Hayley had taken something from her. But she hasn’t thought about it in nine months, since the news of Klaus’s loss had spread across the south like a dark shroud. She’d been surprised to learn New Orleans was still in tact, had waited for Klaus’s vengeance to land on her doorstep, but the small child teething on his thumb makes her wonder if she’d heard wrong – had been told wrong. It’s unexpected, how it hurts, his keeping things from her, a jolting reminder that while she’s dead, her heart is very much alive. It’s the first real emotion she’s felt since they put her mother in the ground.

“She’s supposed to be dead!” Caroline blurts out, says the first thing that comes to mind. 

Klaus cocks a brow and shifts the baby’s weight. “She’s not. May we come in?”

He doesn’t need permission to enter her house but he waits patiently anyway, quietly yielding ground. She presses herself against the door to let him enter; it’s unlikely that she’ll achieve this kind of victory again. It’s been a long time since Klaus stepped foot inside this house, but he needs no map, effortlessly opening her fridge and dumping a blood bag into a mug, heating it in the microwave to the precise temperature that she enjoys, 99.2 if she wants to be exact, all awhile holding a squirming baby.

He shoves the mug in her direction. “You looked like you need a pick-me-up.” She accepts the blood gratefully, takes a long pull as she follows him into the living room, settles on the couch and watches him put the baby on the floor to play. 

While Klaus solemnly watches his daughter, Caroline takes the opportunity to study her, feeling less inclined to eat anyone with a bit of blood in her system. She has Hayley’s high cheekbones and lush mouth, but those deep blue eyes were inherited from her father. They’re like denim, or the roiling sea, like the bruised sky the night she gave into the desire she’d hidden for so long. The baby smiles brightly, laughs even as her father hands her a small stuffed rabbit.

It jumps at her, that word, _father_. Klaus has a baby. He made a baby with someone. He made a baby with _Hayley_. There’s that burn again, the sharp tug of jealousy deep in her belly, and this time she doesn’t have the energy to tamp it down. It’s another thing that won’t be hers, another thing Hayley gets to have. She has her friends, but she’ll never hold her own child in her arms, watch her belly swell while her back aches, feel her chest nearly burst with pride from being able to give _life_. She thinks of her mother, alone in her coffin beneath six feet of dirt. She’ll never be a mother, raise a child, but what she can’t have, she also can’t lose. It’s a small bit of comfort but it makes the knot in her belly loosen enough to smile at Hayley’s daughter.

“She’s beautiful,” she says, even smiles as the baby shakes her stuffed rabbit at the adults. 

“Yes, she is,” Klaus says, doesn’t take his eyes off his daughter even though the little girl has ignored them in favor of gnawing on her toy.

“Does she have a name?”

Klaus cracks a smile, just the smallest quirk of his lips, but he has a lovely mouth and a stunning smile, the kind that changes the entire shape of his face, and even though it’s only a slight curve of his lips, joy radiates all the way to his eyes. “Hope. I named her Hope.”

“Hope,” Caroline whispers, and sets aside her mug, kneels on the rug and pulls the baby into her arms, smiles into her adorable face. She could use a little hope in her life. Hope laughs again, the same magnetic smile as her father, and reaches up to swipe a hand down Caroline’s cheek. 

“She likes you,” Klaus says and Caroline thinks he might be right. Hope is studying her with matching blue eyes, running one tiny hand across the planes of Caroline’s face. Her smile hasn’t loosened one bit. “You’re good with her,” he adds, his own smile widening with affection. His eyes are soft and a bit wide, and before he ducks his head, Caroline swears she sees wonder there.

“I’m never spent much time with babies,” she says as Hope squeals and buries her face in her shoulder. She’s affectionate, this mini-Mikaelson, and it gives Caroline a window into what could have been, the man Klaus might have become had his upbringing been different. She gazes down at his daughter, this squirming, giggling bundle of warmth that showed up at her house long past dark. Slowly, she unwinds Hope’s clingy limbs and deposits her on the blanket, climbs back on the couch and faces Klaus with her arms crossed.

He watches her steadily. “And now, the interrogation.”

“Why are you here, Klaus?” Her tone is harsh, but her head is no longer clouded by the sudden appearance of a resurrected baby. She remembers whom she’s dealing with – _what_ she’s dealing with – and she’s thinking more clearly than she has in days. 

Klaus shrugs and winds the edge of Hope’s blanket around his finger. It’s pink, trimmed in a border of wolves howling at the moon, and it only makes Caroline more demanding, confirms her suspicions about his true intentions. Klaus is a manipulator and a backstabber, sometimes literally, and there’s always a plan b. That sinking feeling in her belly becomes a full-bodied throb. Nothing good has ever come of being caught up in Klaus’s schemes. 

He changes the subject like she didn’t just ask a perfectly reasonable question. “I was sorry to hear about your mother.” He looks up from Hope’s blanket, true sympathy in his eyes.

Caroline expects it to hurt, rip open a wound that might never heal, but it only seals it closed. It’s familiar, this routine, and she picks up the moves like it hasn’t been years since they last played this game. “Thank you for the flowers,” she says. “It was kind of you.”

“You did the same for me.”

She remembers, the roses she sent to the Hotel Royal, the card she’d handwritten to express her sympathies. She’d never wish for anyone, even Klaus, to lose a child. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Klaus shrugs again. “I fancied a road trip.” He grins at her but Caroline doesn’t relent. She knows firsthand he can’t have all the things he wants. Hope gurgles and shakes her stuffed animal, and Caroline realizes it’s all she has, the clothes on her back and a blanket bearing the mark of her mother’s people.

“You kidnapped her.” She keeps the surprise out of her voice, but doesn’t hide the disgust. Nothing about him should shock her anymore, but there’s plenty of room to be disappointed. 

Klaus’s smile falls, jaw tightening as a hard light flares in his eyes. “Hayley tried to take my daughter from me.” He looks at Caroline with eyes that do nothing to betray the power lurking beneath. “She won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Caroline tries to read the truth in the cold mask of his face. “Hayley’s alive, right?” She doesn’t have to like the other girl to hope she’s not dead.

“Of course,” he says softly, teeth bared by his chilling smile. “I’m not that much of a monster.”

She glances at Hope, grinning up at them from her blanket, and swallows hard. “Take it from someone who knows – you shouldn’t keep a child from her mother.”

“She’s young,” Klaus says. “Too young to remember the woman that birthed her.” His jaw tightens again. “I can give her everything she needs. I’m the only one who can keep her safe.”

“But at what cost?” Caroline’s relationship with her own mother was never simple, but Liz always was there. She used to think it would have been easier having no mother at all rather than survive the disappointment that defined her childhood, but now, given what she’s lost, she knows that she was wrong. She can’t make up for the past, but the previous five years went a long way in repairing the damage. She blinks back tears. It’s moments like these when she realizes that her time with her mother has run out.

Klaus wipes the tears from her cheek, but his eyes still pulse with betrayal. “Hayley stole my child from me once. I’m only returning the favor.” 

There’s a story there, details he hasn’t shared, but Caroline focuses on what she knows, the memory of a gaping hole in her soul that only absent parents could fill. “It’s not about you,” she reminds him, twists away so she won’t be distracted by how he’s touching her. “This is about Hope and what’s best for her.” She lifts her chin and meets his eyes. “Don’t do to your daughter what your parents did to you.”

The veins in his cheeks flare, eyes darkening to molten black, and for the first time in years, she truly fears him. She lets her fangs slide down her chin to remind him that he’s older and stronger, but she won’t back down without a fight. “You know nothing of my parents,” he hisses.

“I know what it’s like for them to leave, to put their needs ahead of yours.” Memories flash before her eyes: her mother crying herself to sleep in a solitary bed, frozen dinners and missed teacher conferences, the pitying look in Miranda Gilbert’s eyes when Caroline slept over at Elena’s for the third time that week. Klaus should want more for Hope. “Do the right thing for your daughter.” 

He flinches at the word, chin jutting out defensively. “You’d let Hayley win.”

Caroline throws up her hands in exasperation. “I’d have _Hope_ win. Take her home. Make peace with Hayley. Put your daughter first.” 

Her own parents had failed to see to her needs, her mother pushing and pushing until her father gave up, ceded any interest in the daughter he claimed to love. She’d alternately blamed her mom and then her dad – for being impossible to love, for not loving them enough – and she can’t believe she’s watching it happen again. She sits up straight, locks her jaw and doesn’t look away from Klaus’s steely gaze. She couldn’t always be her mother’s daughter in life, but in death, she knows the girl she needs to be. She won’t let another child grow up like her. 

“If you don’t take her back, I will.” She says the words quietly, but the threat is evident, woven into the even tenor of her voice. 

Klaus looks at her a long time, but she doesn’t look away and eventually the mask falls, eyes wide and vulnerable in a face that looks impossibly young. “Alright,” he says softly. “We’ll take her home.” 

Caroline doesn’t miss the way he ties their names together, pulls her into this mess of his own making, but she doesn’t correct him. She started down this path when she opened her door a lifetime ago, let him in and listened as he promised her a life filled with beautiful things. She hasn’t said no to him yet; she _can’t_ say no to Hope. The room is silent but for the even beat of the baby’s heart, and Caroline glances at her, realizes she hasn’t heard her laugh in some time. Hope’s lying on her side, thumb tucked neatly in her mouth, fast sleep under the watchful gaze of Hayley’s wolves. Caroline feels exhausted herself, battle weary after that clash of wills with Klaus, shoulders sagging in the aftermath. She wants a hot bath and a goodnight’s sleep. The former is possible, but the latter has evaded her since the night she buried her mother. She sighs heavily and pushes to her feet. Even with her unexpected guests, there’s no reason to believe tonight will be any different.

“Tomorrow,” she agrees. “We leave at first light.” She fixes him with a glare. “Don’t even think of slipping out in the night. You never know when there’s a white oak stake with your name on it.” It’s an empty threat and Klaus knows it, but he still smiles slowly, laughter dancing in his eyes. “What?” she demands, pushes straggly strands of hair away from her face. 

Klaus stands as well, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Blonde, bossy…it seems I have a type.” 

She rolls her eyes and gestures towards the stairs. “I’m going to bed. Alone.” 

The mask slips again and Klaus pauses, those full lips visibly trembling as he turns his attention to Hope. “Why don’t you take her?”

“She’s your daughter.”

“You’re good with her.” 

There’s more to this story as well, more truths Klaus is hiding from her, but Caroline’s too tired to care. She doesn’t need the sleep but she finds comfort in the routines of her old life, and right now, her bed is the only place she wants to be. Carefully, she scoops Hope into her arms and carries her up the stairs. She weighs almost nothing, a soft bundle of warmth, and Caroline presses the baby to her non-beating heart as she pads down the hall to her room. 

Hope is wearing pajamas and her diaper doesn’t need to be changed, but they’re without a crib, and Caroline pauses in the doorway, unsure of where the baby should sleep. Klaus appears behind her, his hard chest pressing in her back, and stares over her shoulder into the room. He hasn’t been there since he tried to kill her, sent a message to Tyler with poison in her blood, and little has changed besides the occupants. She inches forward just the tiniest bit, puts distance between them. 

“I don’t know where she should sleep. You didn’t bring a crib.” 

Klaus steps around her, filling her room with the wide spread of his shoulders and the clean pine scent of his skin. He gestures at the bed. “She’ll sleep with us.”

Caroline opens her mouth to protest but he’s already stripped off his shirt and started working on his pants, until he’s all long, lean muscle wearing nothing but black boxer-briefs and a knowing grin. She buries her face in Hope’s curls, breathes in her sweet baby scent, ignores the half-naked man standing next to her bed. 

“No way,” she manages to say, her voice muffled by his daughter’s silken hair. “I’ll watch Hope but you’re bunking in the guest room.” Her mom’s room is also empty but it’s not an option. She hasn’t opened that door in weeks and she’s still not ready.

Klaus takes a step forward and his smile turns menacing. “I’ll not let her out of my sight.” 

She could state the obvious, that she didn’t ask for this, but it’s late and she’s tired, and she likes the blind trust she saw in Hope’s eyes. She’s not sure she’ll ever get to have this again. “Fine,” she bites out, tears back the quilt and gently place the baby on the bed. “But we’re just sleeping.” 

She storms out of the room, hurriedly washes her face and brushes her teeth, returns in a thin tank top and worn sweatpants. Klaus is already in the bed, curled on his side, head propped on an elbow while he watches his daughter sleep. He inclines his head towards Caroline’s side of the bed and she slides in next to him, careful not to jostle the mattress and wake the baby. She gazes at Hope for a moment, watches the rise and fall of her chest and the long eyelashes resting on her rosy cheeks before snuffing out the light. 

The room is dark but Caroline’s eyesight is sharp, supernaturally sharp, and she can see Klaus’s eyes in the darkness, flickering like candlelight, burning the same bright blue. She waits for him to say something, to break the easy truce between them, but he only watches her, eyes gently tracing the lines of her face.

“Why did you come here?” she finally asks, unable to bear the silence any longer. It’s comforting, emptying her mind and lying in bed without the weight of her grief pressing on her heart. She doesn’t deserve this easy peace, not after the things she did to cope. “And don’t say it’s because I’m full of light.”

He smiles in the darkness, teeth flashing while his eyes never leave her face. “Your heart has always given more than it takes. I knew you wouldn’t turn us away.”

Caroline laughs without humor. Klaus has always had a way of stripping her bare with just a few words rolling off his tongue, for calling out exactly who she is when she can’t see it herself. Her mother is dead and her heart is broken and she still gives with everything she has left. “Right,” she snaps. “Caroline Forbes’ Home for Wayward Vampires.”

Klaus reaches over the sleeping baby and tenderly brushes the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Home,” he says. “I knew that’s what I’d find here.” Tears pool in Caroline’s eyes. She lives in a house but it’s no longer a home, not when there’s no one left to share it with. “Sleep,” Klaus whispers, slides his hand to push her hair back from her face. “Let me take care of you.”

She closes her eyes, his voice lulling her into sleep, the warm weight of his daughter caught between them. She drifts away to the distant rhythm of Hope’s heartbeat, the steady stroke of Klaus’s fingers in her hair. For the first time in weeks, she doesn’t dream, doesn’t feel the blissful stretch and pull of his body sinking into hers. She doesn’t need those things when she has him beside her.


	2. Chapter 2

 

* * *

 

They don’t leave at dawn. Caroline wakes to the slam of a car door closing and shoots into a sitting position, belatedly remembering that she isn’t alone in the bed. Her room is bathed in the fuzzy gray of morning, just the slightest hint of light peeking through the curtains, a weak bar of sunshine falling across Hope’s face. She’s fine, lying on her back with her legs curled in the air and tiny fists closed around her toes, leaving Caroline to smile and reach for the note lying on Klaus’s empty pillow. A babbling baby bathed in sunlight is the perfect way to start her day.

In his old-fashioned, flowery script, Klaus tells her that he’s gone out to the store and will return shortly. He also asks her to watch Hope. Caroline gingerly sniffs the baby, but her diaper has been freshly changed. Or maybe magical miracle babies don’t have to pee? Vampires certainly don’t. Either way, they didn’t feed Hope last night and eating is something that even Caroline has to do; she blinks away the last dregs of sleep to scrounge up some food for the baby.

“Okay, baby girl. Looks like it’s just us.” Hope ignores her and tugs harder on her foot, and Caroline laughs at the look of intense concentration on her face. It’s like watching Klaus in miniature, the same stubborn set of his mouth and narrowing of his eyes, set in a little girl’s chubby cheeks. His _daughter_ Caroline corrects herself. Even with a good night’s sleep, it’s still a shock. Still, if Hope is anything like her father, she’ll keep playing with her toes until she’s good and ready, so Caroline gets out of bed and scoops the baby into her arms. “Got it. I’m gonna have to do the work.”

She manages to brush her teeth with one hand while Hope squirms in the opposite arm, and hurries downstairs to deposit the baby on the kitchen floor with an overturned pot and wooden spoon. Hope bangs away happily while Caroline pokes around the pantry, finds a container of oatmeal hidden behind stale cheerios and expired pasta sauce. They’re back in the living room when Klaus returns from the store, Caroline spooning lukewarm oatmeal into the Hope’s mouth. 

“It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s supergirl!” Hope giggles and closes her mouth over the spoon, finishing off the last of her breakfast.

Caroline hears the door open and wipes a bit of oatmeal from Hope’s cheek. “Sounds like daddy’s home.” The word still feels foreign on her tongue, but it’s becoming more natural. It’s hard to forget when she’s gazing into his eyes in a baby’s face. Klaus pauses at her words, boots skidding slightly on the hardwood floor, but he smiles softly and reaches out, fingers ghosting over Hope’s hair. He drops his hand and sits on the couch, long fingers splayed over the lean length of his thigh. Caroline looks away. 

“How was your morning?”

She hands Hope her stuffed rabbit and holds up the empty bowl. “You didn’t give us any warning, but we made do.”

“I knew you would.” He takes her free hand and pulls her to her feet. “Get dressed, pack a bag. We leave within the hour.”

She freezes, grips Klaus’s hand like a lifeline. Taking a shower is one thing, but leaving the house is another. She’s created her own little reality between its walls – out there her mother is dead, buried just down the path from Elena’s parents and Bonnie’s dad, Tyler’s mom and so many people that they’ve loved and lost. She tries to move her feet but they stay rooted in place. 

“Caroline,” Klaus breathes, meets her stricken gaze with tender eyes, repeats the words she said to him the night before. “Take it from someone who knows – you can’t hide in the shadows forever. Sometimes you need to step into the light.” He smiles fondly, eyes twinkling like they did at the ball, and Caroline feels the way she did that night, like she could do anything, could _be_ anything, and it gives her the courage to let go of his hand.

“Okay,” she whispers, almost shyly, embarrassed to have lost control, and especially to have lost control in front of him. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, then smiles, all supportive encouragement, and she’s able to put one foot in front of the other to get up the stairs.

She can feel the weight of his eyes on her back. His gaze doesn’t push her down; it holds her up.

 

* * *

 

To Caroline’s surprise, they do get on the road within an hour. She returns to the living room with her hair in a damp braid and finds Klaus and Hope where she left them, man on the couch and baby on her blanket, looking up at her with matching blue eyes. It makes her breath catch, seeing them together, and she fusses with her bag as a distraction. 

Klaus takes her duffel and inclines his head towards his daughter. “If you don’t mind,” he says, makes a show of hauling the bag over his shoulder. 

Caroline rolls her eyes but scoops up the baby, breathes in the clean scent of Hope’s hair, feels the steady pitter-patter of her heart beating against her own silent chest, so much life in this tiny body, such a stark reminder of what’s waiting for her outside the front door. She isn’t alive but she should be living, and her mom would have wanted her to see the world. 

“I’m ready,” she says and steps out onto the porch, Klaus’s hand at her elbow, just in case she needs the support. Together, they buckle Hope into the car seat and Klaus starts the engine, hand resting on her headrest as he backs the SUV down the driveway.

Once they’re on the road it’s quiet in the car, too quiet for Caroline, with Hope asleep in the backseat and Klaus focused on always being in the fastest lane. Even the baby’s heartbeat isn’t enough to distract her from the oppressive silence surrounding them. She taps her fingers lightly against the door, but it’s too loud for her hyper-sensitive hearing, and she drops her hands into her lap. 

“Something bothering you?” Klaus’s eyes don’t leave the road, but he’s seen her anxiety all the same.

“We should call Hayley.” She has little sympathy for the worry Hope’s mother must be feeling, but it’s the right thing to do, the kind of thing she knows she _should_ do, and she has to ask.

Klaus’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “I promised to take my daughter home. Hayley will find out in due time.”

“She’s her mom – ”

“She tried to steal my child,” Klaus snaps. “She’ll have Hope back. I won’t give her more.”

Caroline’s content with having tried, but they lapse back into that awkward silence and she’s out of distractions. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks softly. It’s been on her mind since Klaus arrived on her doorstep, the secret he kept, the way he didn’t trust her, and she’s only mildly ashamed that she cares more about it than keeping Hayley from her daughter. “I wouldn’t have said anything about Hope being alive.”

“No one knew but those of my blood.” He smiles sadly. “Even Marcel, my honorary son, was compelled to forget.” 

She shakes her head. “Family is something you choose.” She thinks of the people she left behind, the friends that took up permanent residence in her heart. Their love can be suffocating, but it’s pure. She can’t be around them now, but it doesn’t make their love less true. 

Klaus smiles at her, a real smile devoid of ulterior motives, before turning back to the road. “So I’ve learned.”

She turns her own eyes to the window to hide the blush staining her cheeks. In the backseat, Hope gurgles herself awake, and a wide smile curves Caroline’s mouth. She might have lost her mother, the family of her birth, but there’s another already filling the hole in her heart.

 

* * *

 

They make it to Georgia on their first day. Peach season has just started and Caroline sees the signs as they cross the border. 

“Turn off at the next exit.”

Klaus doesn’t argue and follows the exit ramp to a windy country road. They’d stopped once before, at a rest stop to feed Hope and stretch their legs, and Caroline had indulged in an entire carton of Auntie Anne’s pretzels, closed her eyes in bliss as she tasted the salt on tongue. It’s one of the many things she loves about being a vampire, eating what she wants without gaining a single ounce. 

“That good, huh?” Klaus had asked and Caroline only managed a sinful nod. He’d been shifting in his seat when she opened her eyes, Hope reaching for a pretzel from her spot on her lap. She’d shucked off the salt and let the baby chew on one. 

“A girl after my own heart,” Caroline had said when Hope squealed in delight but Klaus only smiled slowly and watched them with hooded eyes.

Back on the road, he lets her call the shots, direct him to a small orchard a few miles from the highway. The trees are dripping with fruit, perfect peaches in every shade of red and orange, and Caroline’s almost skipping in delight after she unbuckles Hope from the car seat. 

Klaus follows in her wake as she leads him to the orchard’s owners, a man and wife in matching straw hats, selling artisanal jams and pickled fruit at a small stand. They introduce themselves as Tom and Sandy and make silly faces at Hope.

“What a sweetheart,” Sandy coos, smiling openly at the baby. It’s a thing Caroline’s still learning, the attention a baby draws, but it doesn’t hurt. She doesn’t feel jealous, invisible, like the years when every eye in the room was focused on Elena. Babies are beautiful, full of promise and faith – Hope doesn’t have to be her daughter to teach her that lesson.

Caroline smiles politely rather than correct Sandy. “Thank you. How much to pick peaches?”

Sandy waves them off and gives them a basket, directs them to the back of the orchard where she claims the fruit is ripest. Caroline carries Hope while Klaus handles the basket, kicks off her sandals and leaves them by the car so she can trudge through the grass in her bare feet. Klaus follows a pace or so behind, eyes never straying from the woman carrying his child. Caroline knows she needs to ask him about it later – needs to ask him so many things – but not now, not when there’s spring in her lungs and late afternoon sun warming her skin and a wide-eyed baby in her arms.

They stop at the chosen spot and Caroline holds Hope up to a branch, urges her to grasp the peach; the baby tugs and tugs to no avail, lets out a frustrated wail when the fruit remains clinging stubbornly to the tree. Klaus takes pity on her, snaps the fruit from the branch and gives it to his daughter. His hand brushes Hope’s, just for a fraction of a second, but long enough for that stricken look to return to his eyes before he turns away and begins filling their basket with peaches. Caroline watches as Hope gnaws on the peach, laughing at the feel of the fuzzy skin against her cheeks.

Caroline sets her in the grass and peels the peach, lets her gum on its flesh while Klaus plucks fruit from the branches. There’s a tense set to his shoulders that she doesn’t like – he looks too much like every time he ripped someone’s heart from their chest – and she keeps watching him while Hope reclines against her, but he eventually runs out of storage space and settles down with his back against a tree.

An easy silence stretches out before them and Caroline’s content to do little more than watch Hope bat at the grass. “My mother had an orchard in the old country,” Klaus says after a few minutes pass, picks up a peach and turns it in his hand. “We grew apples.” He bites into the fruit, a bit of juice trickling down his chin. “She said it was a sweet way to end the day.” 

His eyes narrow slightly at the mention of his childhood and Caroline takes it as an opening, pretends to check on Hope when his tongue flicks out lap up the juice. “Is that why we’re here?” she asks when she finds her voice. “Because of something your mother did?” She’s on this trip because of her mom; given his history, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’s doing the same.

His face twists, handsome features darkening with anger. “I don’t wish to discuss my mother.” 

With Hope between them, she feels brave, refuses to let the conversation drop. “My dad tried to brainwash the vampire out of me. How bad could it be?” She knows she’s gotten it wrong the moment the words leave her mouth. Her father tried to make her the daughter he wanted, but accepted what she was in his final moments. She remembers Esther at the ball, her serene face hiding the ugliness inside. Her children weren’t as lucky.

“I killed my father,” Klaus sneers. “And this time he won’t be back. I turned my mother into a vampire, gifted her with the same curse she bestowed on me.” He pushes to his feet in a cloud of rage. “For all your problems with your parents, they died loving you. Wanting you.” He takes a menacing step forward. “Don’t think we are the same.”

He’s towering over her and Hope, his body casting a long shadow over their faces. Caroline cranes her neck to meet his gaze and Hope does the same, stares up at him with his own eyes. Something cracks inside him and he takes a deep breath, that stricken look returning to his eyes. He’s gone before Caroline can say something, a blur of anger and regret speeding through the trees, an overturned basket of peaches the only proof he was ever there. Slowly, she puts the peaches back in the basket and winds it over one arm, picks up Hope with the other and trudges back to the car. Klaus is calmer when they meet him, leaning against the SUV with a blank expression. Without a word, he takes the basket from her and puts it in the trunk, wedges it between the stroller and bags of clothes and diapers he bought earlier that morning. He doesn’t apologize for his behavior, but he does buckle Hope into the car seat and open Caroline’s car door like the gentleman he isn’t.

She waves goodbye to Tom and Sandy, just to keep up appearances, but keeps her face turned towards the window as they return to the highway. Klaus is gripping the steering wheel again and his jaw is tense, but he doesn’t say anything as he steers the car towards the setting sun. Light surrounds them, all the colors of the orchard and more, even purples and blues painting streaks of color across the darkening sky. It settles some of the tension in Caroline’s chest, seeing that beauty can exist after all she’s lost, and Klaus must feel it too, because his jaw loosens and he props his elbow out the open window. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after they’ve been driving almost an hour. 

Caroline straightens in her seat, casts a quick glance at his profile, still classically handsome but without the fury carved into the lines of his face. “I’m sorry for pushing,” she says. “Just because it worked out for me doesn’t mean does for everyone else.” She takes a shaky breath, her last moments with her mom flitting through her mind. Liz was at peace, but she was too, secure in her love for her mother, that she was loved in return. She can’t even imagine what Klaus’s final encounters with Mikael and Esther were like. 

He shakes his head. “To be a Mikaelson is both a blessing and a curse. I am a Mikaelson in name, and yet, I continue to repeat their mistakes.”

“Always and forever.” The words hover in the tense air. “And yet, here you are.”

Klaus’s words are clipped. “I’ve learned I can only rely on myself.”

She scoffs. “If you truly believed that, you’d be in New Orleans sticking daggers in your siblings’ chests, not on a road trip with me.”

“They have a dagger of their own,” he confesses. “I trust them to protect Hope, but not so much for myself.”

Caroline’s glad it’s dark in the car because it masks the smile she can’t quite hide. She wants to side with Klaus, but she knows his temper, remembers his rages, and she’s proud of Elijah and Rebekah for having a means of retribution. “How’s it feel?”

“What do you think?”

He has one hand on the wheel, but the other is now firmly gripping the gearshift, and she stares at those long, pale fingers, the power there, the devastation they can cause, and it’s a sharp contrast to the pain in his voice. “I think it hurts,” she says softly, remembers the way she’d thought her chest would split in two and take her heart with it when her dad walked our. “It hurts when people betray you, but you get over it if you want them in your life.” She takes a chance and rests her hand over his. His fingers tremble, but he doesn’t shake her away. “What do you want?”

“I want things to be as they were before.”

Caroline laughs sadly. She’s had the same wish herself, learned the hard way that it will never come true. “If wishes were horses,” she mumbles under her breath, and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “You daggered your siblings for decades, Klaus, nine hundred years in Finn’s case, and they forgave you. Maybe it’s time you forgive them too.”

She expects a retort, for him to lash out in anger, maybe literally, but he only slides his hand from under hers and puts it back on the wheel. “Maybe,” he says, doesn’t lift his eyes from the road. “Sleep,” he instructs softly. “Let me make it up to you.”

She closes her eyes, lets the even motion of the car soothe her into sleep, not unlike the baby strapped into the backseat. She doesn’t know where they’re going but she trusts Klaus to get them there safely.

 

* * *

 

The light burns Caroline’s eyes when she opens them in the parking lot of a luxury hotel. She can see nothing but ocean for the foreseeable future, a seemingly endless stretch of aquamarine water and pale beach, two seagulls arcing through the sky towards a molten sun.

She pulls down the visor to shade her eyes. “Where are we?”

Klaus smiles and hands her a pair of sunglasses. “Welcome to Miami.”

“Oh my god, Klaus!” Her eyes are wide with excitement as she gazes towards the pool, takes in the crowd of brightly colored bikinis and sarongs, cocktails and towels. She’s wanted to visit since she was a kid, and especially after the most recent “Step Up” movie. She sticks out a hand. “Your credit card, please?”

Klaus raises his eyebrows but gives her the card. “There’s no spending limit, but try to restrain yourself.” He glances at Hope. “I’ll handle the logistics but you’ll need to take the baby.”

It’s a reasonable request, for the man to deal with the hotel while the woman deals with the child, but she knows there’s a deeper reason he avoids responsibility for his own daughter. She’s tempted to frown, but the sun is warm and the breeze is cool, the salt and brine of the sea all around her. She breathes in deep and it washes away her concerns. There will be time later to deal with Klaus’s issues.

Instead, she props Hope on her hip and buys several hundred dollars worth of beach gear in the gift shop. She's debating if she should take it with her or have it sent to the room when Klaus comes to collect them. He’s still wearing jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt but his forearms are bare, the tendons flexing as he reaches for the bags. She looks at the salesgirl to keep from leering at him, but the woman’s ogling Klaus, envy lurking in her eyes, and Caroline realizes how they look, a beautiful couple that can’t age – his body hard and muscled from the manual labor of his life a thousand years ago, hers still tight and lean because she died at seventeen – relaxing on vacation with an equally beautiful child. It’s an illusion, a game they’re playing while keeping reality at bay, but she still smiles smugly as Klaus signs for their purchases. 

That feeling stays with her when they arrive at their room, a spacious penthouse overlooking the beach, with a wide balcony and private pool. Klaus probably had to compel a pair of newlyweds out of their honeymoon suite, but Caroline doesn’t care. She’s never been anywhere but Virginia, never thought she’d stay in a place like this. She’ll enjoy this bit of extravagance while she can. She orders Klaus to put her things in the bedroom, shoos him out of the room so she and Hope can change. It’s a one piece for Hope, with a silky ruffle at the waist, but Caroline chooses a bikini for herself. It’s red, a rich shade that compliments her hair and skin, the blue of her eyes, and she can’t wait to see Klaus’s face when she shows it off. She gamely picks up the baby and returns to the living room for sunscreen help, proudly wearing only a few scraps of red material, but she isn’t prepared for Klaus. 

He’s leaning just inside the balcony door, but he turns when he hears them, all long, lean muscle and scruffy jaw, wearing nothing but the swim trunks she purchased a few minutes before. They’re navy, the same color as his eyes when he sees her, sliding slowly from the crown of her head and down to her toes, and it takes all her resolve not to flinch under his scrutiny.

“Need something love?” he asks, his voice like gravel. 

She represses the shiver but can’t stop from clearing her throat. “Sunscreen help,” she says and holds up the bottle, pulls Hope closer like she’ll hide the flush creeping up her chest.

Klaus smiles knowingly but says nothing, gestures for her turn so he can do her back. There’s a playpen by the couch where she deposits Hope, counts to ten before she goes back to Klaus. He brushes her hair over one shoulder, fingers sliding lightly over her neck before he presses his palms against her shoulder blades. She gasps, the sound echoing through the silent room, and Klaus lets out a small chuckle.

“It’s cold,” she insists, mostly to save face, but also to hide her reaction to his hands on her bare skin. 

He blows her hair back from her nape. “I don’t want to miss a spot. You’ll have to keep still.” It takes restraint she didn’t know she had not to move while his hands glide down her spine, ghost over her hips, slip for a few seconds under the low cut of her bikini bottom. “All done,” he says and steps back while she tries not to shudder. “Now, you do me.”

She’s slow to react and takes care not to look at his face, the smirking grin she assumes he’s wearing, before stepping behind him with the sunscreen in hand. His shoulders are broad, his waist narrow, and she hesitates after squirting lotion into her palm, not sure where to start. She studies the triangle inked into his skin, presses her palm against it, and feels his intake of breath. She smiles wider and slides both her hands over the smooth planes of his back, feels a slight shudder rippling across his shoulder blades. It makes her feel almost divine– an Original literally quaking under her hands – and she seizes the moment, lightly massaging Klaus’s muscles as she rubs in the lotion, lingering over the dips in his hips, the back of his neck, a sensitive spot at the center of his spine. He’s a bit breathless when she tells him that she’s done, disappears into the bathroom as soon as she lets him go, leaves her standing there wearing her tiny bikini and a smug smile.

When he comes back, she and Hope are lathered up and ready to go, faces shaded by matching sun hats. Klaus’s expression is impassive but his eyes remain that deep, heated blue, and they struggle to focus on her face rather than her breasts. “You ready?” she asks, cocking her head towards the playpen she already folded up.

He nods, a slight tilt of his head. “Lead the way.”

With a bit of compulsion they’re able to secure two deck chairs, a pair of dazed twenty-somethings wandering off like they hadn’t woken before noon to claim the seats for themselves. Caroline leans back in her chair and sets up shop, orders a drink and digs her book out of the bottom of the diaper bag. She can’t tan and the sunscreen is a vestige of her old life – her mom’s warnings about skin cancer still replaying in her head – but the sun is real, comforting as it soaks into her skin. It makes her think of good times from her past, swimming lessons with her dad at the lake, drinking with her friends at the Lockwood swim hole, and she turns her face to the sun and smiles.

Hope lets out a high-pitched cry, but when Caroline checks on her, she’s neither hungry or in need of a diaper change. She looks furious, her little face scrunched up in irritation, because she’s stuck in a playpen while the adults bask in the sun. Caroline casts a peek at the pool – the water is inviting but she’s happier in her chair, reading her book and watching what’s happening around them. Quite a few glances have been sent in their direction, many leveled at her, but most directed at Klaus. He’s sprawled in his deck chair with his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, but his arms are stretched up over his head. He’s paler than most people, they both are, but it doesn’t detract from the broad spread of his shoulders or the defined planes of his chest. More than a few women are openly staring at him, especially when Hope lets out another cry.

Caroline puts down her book and nudges him. “Take her in the pool.” 

He doesn’t move and barely responds. “Why don’t you?” He sounds nonchalant, but she wonders what’s in his eyes behind those opaque sunglasses, if it’s the same fear that’s there every time she asks him to interact with his daughter. 

She thinks she understands, his instinct to push people away before they leave him, but Hope is too young to understand. All she knows is that her father won’t touch her, won’t bond with her, would sacrifice his own life for hers but won’t admit his love for her. She grew up with a similar man, a man who couldn’t love himself and punished her for his own failings. She looks at Hope’s miserable face, sees a bit of herself there; she came on this trip to see Klaus’s daughter safely home, but she realizes it’s not enough. She’ll do more than make him put Hope first – she’ll teach him how to love her.

“I’m busy,” she says and taps her book, pushes her sunglasses up her forehead so he can see her eyes. “You’re her dad. It should be you.”

Maybe it’s the word choice, or the glare she sends his way, but he calmly gets up and scoops his daughter into his arms, holds her like porcelain as he pads to the pool. Hope stops crying immediately, tilts her head to watch her father curiously, reaching up to paw at his hair. He’s held her before but she senses that this is different, because it's what he wants rather than necessity, and she burrows her face into the curve of his neck.

Caroline’s heightened hearing catches the collective intake of breath from Klaus’s admirers, and she almost joins them, feels her breath catch in her chest as he slowly enters the pool with Hope cradled high on his chest. The baby takes to the water immediately, splashing gleefully when the spray lands on her face. Klaus smiles, tentative at first, then identical to Hope, mischievous but filled with joy. He holds his daughter closer and slaps at the water with her, all the tension drained from his face. Hope lets out a particularly loud giggle and Klaus laughs with her, pure and light and filled with the love that scares him so much.

Caroline thinks it might be the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful support for this fic. It’s been like getting on a bike, to be totally cliché, but it’s true, how easy it’s been to slip into writing Klaroline again. Title and quote courtesy of Arcade Fire. Enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

 

* * *

 

In bits and pieces, Caroline chips away at Klaus’s walls. 

Hope is exhausted by her long afternoon in the sun, but Caroline insists on a bath, wanting to scrub the salt and sea from the baby’s sensitive skin. Klaus sits on the edge of the tub while she kneels before it, handing her bottles of baby shampoo and conditioner, gently pouring water down the back of Hope’s head while Caroline shields her eyes. 

She contemplates asking him to hold his daughter once she’s bundled Hope in a towel, but it might be too much, too soon, and she doesn’t want to lose the progress she’s made. Instead, she hums to herself while dressing Hope in her pajamas and retrieves her stuffed rabbit before putting the baby to bed. Klaus watches from the doorway, eyes flicking constantly from woman to child, arms dangling loosely at his sides. He looks at ease – relaxed – and Caroline thinks it scares her more than the night he ripped twelve hybrids to pieces. She knows that man, understands how he thinks, but this Klaus is a mystery, especially when he smiles at her and holds out his hand.

His fingers are cold when she takes them, but it’s the same chill she feels in herself. “Fancy a swim?”

They both splashed about with Hope earlier in the day, but Caroline’s been dying to try out the infinity pool. It’s black-bottomed and slender, overlooking the city’s lights, the moonlight glittering on the ocean. She glances at Klaus and sees starlight in his eyes, like that night in the woods, like the moment she gave into all the things she was afraid to feel. “Sure,” she agrees and lets him lead her into the night.

He makes quick work of his jeans and t-shirt, diving naked into the pool. Caroline watches his long, lean body arc through the water like a pale seal, the underbelly of a great white shark. Her fingers hover at the hem of her thin cotton dress, and she’s wondering if she should make a quick dash inside for her bathing suit when Klaus surfaces, teeth flashing in the moonlight as he grins. “Won’t you join me?”

His eyes track down the length of her body, lingering on the expanse of pale thigh revealed by the short hem of her dress. She takes a breath, reminds herself that she shouldn’t be embarrassed. He’s seen her like this before, been _inside_ her, and what’s a bit of skin compared to frantic sex in the woods? She pulls her dress over her head and steps out of her panties, dives neatly into the pool to avoid the look in Klaus’s eyes.

In the water, she sinks slowly and holds her breath for a long moment, much longer than she ever could when she was alive, flips on her back and opens her eyes, watches the moon ripple through the wall of water above her. It’s nearly full, ripe and ready to burst, like the peaches she and Klaus picked from the trees, and she kicks towards the stars before she tries to pluck it from the sky. The sun is her master, the moon another memory of all the things she can’t have.

She surfaces near the pool’s lip, rests her arms on the invisible wall and stares out at the sleeping sea. Music floats up from the club below, thumping and wild, but the ocean is silent; even the waves have ceased their roiling. Klaus comes up behind her, close enough that she can feel his breath in her hair, but enough distance to keep his skin from brushing against hers. 

“Lovely night,” he says.

She turns to face him, a sleek, pale blur in the dark water, circling closer but never touching. “You did well with Hope today.”

“She’s a special girl.”

“She needs more days like today.” 

Klaus’s eyes soften for the briefest of moments. “I wish she could remember it.” He doesn’t say more but his meaning is clear: just because he gave into Caroline’s wishes today doesn’t mean she’ll be treated to a repeat performance. One happy day with his daughter hasn’t changed his mind about how he thinks he should raise her.

It’s a gamble, breaking the barrier between them, putting herself directly in a predator’s sights, but Caroline takes the risk, reaches out to lay a hand on Klaus’s taunt shoulder. He relaxes into her touch, muscles loosening from the slide of her skin over his, and she gives him a gentle squeeze in support. “I know what you’re doing,” she says softly, fights to keep her voice steady as her childhood flashes before her eyes, all the missed calls and cancelled visits, all the times her father pushed her away because he thought it would hurt less. It hurt more, wondering why he didn’t want her in his life, what _she_ did to make him stay away. “You think if she never gets to know you, she’ll never be disappointed by you. You’re wrong. She’ll think she’s the problem. She’ll spend her whole life wondering how she disappointed _you_.”

Klaus’s jaw tightens. “If I keep her alive, it’s enough.” 

Caroline takes a step closer, so her breasts brush his chest, but there’s nothing sexual about it, not when his daughter’s future is at stake. “I told you once that you don’t connect with people because you don’t try to understand them, but I don’t think that’s it. You understand people just fine – you’re terrified of what they’ll see if they try to understand you.”

“I know what I am,” he says softly. “I don’t want her to be a part of that.” His eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Too late,” Caroline reminds him. “You’re her dad. She’s stuck with you and vise versa. Rather than push her away, let her in. Let her see that there’s love in her life no matter the things that her family has done.” She remembers all the times she pulled Stefan or Elena back from the edge, how they were there for her after she flipped the switch when her mom died. Klaus has committed a thousand years of mayhem, but it doesn’t change that he fathered a child; it doesn’t change how much Hope will need him in her life. 

Finally, he smiles almost tenderly. “You’re very wise for one so young.”

“Please,” Caroline scoffs, suddenly aware of the warm water, the humid air, the slide of Klaus’s skin against hers. “I _am_ a college sophomore. I know things.”

Klaus laughs and it ignites his brilliant smile, the one that lights up his entire face and reaches all the way to his eyes, brushes his fingers down her cheek. “I so enjoy you.”

She enjoys him too, despite her better instincts, cares about him even though he’s hurt people she loves, but it’s too much right now. She can’t help him with Hope if she’s distracted by the mischief in his smile, so she takes a step back and puts real distance between them. He doesn’t reach for her the way she thought he would, but lets her swim slow strokes to ladder, eyes trailing over the bumps of her spine as she climbs out of the pool. She wraps herself in a towel and turns to face him, that impish smile having moved to his eyes. 

“Goodnight, Klaus,” she says, aware of the high-pitched tone of her voice, the way her hands shake as she tries to knot the towel. 

“Goodnight, Caroline,” he drawls and rolls on his back to float under the stars. She can’t seem to look away from all that smooth, wet skin skimming over the water.

Hope stirs inside the hotel room, a thin cry piercing the night, and Caroline snaps out of it, hurries inside to prep a bottle and feed the hungry baby. “I’m here, baby girl,” she croons, gathers Hope in her arms once the bottle is ready. They settle in an armchair by the open door, the occasional splash permeating the silence. Caroline imagines Klaus rising from the pool, water sluicing down those sleek muscles as he stalks across the patio. She holds Hope closer and breathes in her shampoo, fresh and clean and pure. She ignores how much she longs to be with him.

 

* * *

 

They spend one more day in Miami, enjoying the sun and sea, before packing up for their next port of call. There’s a king size bed and a crib for Hope but still, Caroline manages to awake tangled up in Klaus. He smiles at her and brushes messy hair from her face before getting out of bed to feed his daughter. Caroline rolls over and hides her smile in her pillow, only joining them when she’s fully composed.

Klaus has been helping more and more, holding Hope while she drinks her formula and playing with her in the pool, even putting her to bed their final night. They’re small moments, and with long hours in between, but Caroline thinks they’re making real progress. Klaus almost looks comfortable holding Hope while Caroline makes up the bottle, like he won’t crush her between his palms just from touching her. 

He hands Hope to Caroline when his phone rings and disappears onto the patio to take the call. While she knows better than to eavesdrop – just because she can, doesn’t mean she _should_ – nothing good ever comes of Klaus’s scheming, so she calmly gives Hope her bottle and opens her ears. 

“I shouldn’t have to remind you, brother, but the full moon is in three days. You’ve kept Hayley from her child long enough.” Elijah’s voice is calm and even as always, but there’s a note of urgency behind the smooth cadence.

“I had thought we made amends, and yet, you throw your support in with the Wolf Queen.” Caroline can imagine the blazing blue of Klaus’s eyes, the rage contorting his handsome face. She’s glad they’re hundreds of miles from New Orleans.

Elijah sighs. “My concern is for Hope. She has but this one opportunity to see her mother and you keep her away. Was it not enough to curse Hayley and her people anew?”

Klaus’s tone is razor sharp. “You and Hayley conspired to take my daughter from me once and it will not happen again." He pauses, voice ragged with anger. “I will return, but when I’m good and ready.” 

Elijah’s response is silenced when Klaus ends the call and he storms back into the suite, chest heaving with fury. Once, Caroline would have looked away, done anything to avoid stoking his ire, but those days are done. Klaus is older than her and stronger than her, but he no longer scares her. If he hasn’t killed her yet, she doubts he’ll start now. Plus, she has larger concerns, like the half-werewolf baby in her arms and the rapidly approaching full moon.

“Should I be concerned?” she asks. “What will we do if she turns?”

Klaus’s forehead knots and he’s clearly annoyed that she eavesdropped on his call, but his face softens slightly at the sight of his daughter. “She hasn’t killed anyone yet so she’ll be fine.”

Caroline has always felt the werewolf change-mechanism is particularly gruesome, far worse than vampires, with her kind only drinking blood to transition while Hayley’s people _have to kill someone_ to activate their curse, and she’s relieved to hear that it hasn’t been inflicted on Hope.

“Good,” she says, keeps pushing even though she knows she should let it go. “But what about Hayley – ”

“What about Hayley?” Klaus interrupts, pushes past her to raid the wet bar. 

“I heard your conversation. What did you do to Hayley?”

Klaus’s fingers tighten around the glass before he raises it to his mouth and takes a sip. “Always thinking the worst of me.”

Caroline puts Hope on her play blanket. “I’m just working from experience,” she says and slowly pries his fingers from the glass, puts the half-empty tumbler on the bar. “I’m not judging, Klaus, but I am asking: what did you do to Hayley?”

He stares at their fingers, long and pale and filled with inhuman strength, clasps her hand tightly in his. “A few months back, Hayley married another werewolf of the Crescent line. Upon their marriage, a ritual was performed, granting all in attendance the ability to control their werewolf form, to change at will rather than by the moon’s dictate.”

“Like a hybrid,” Caroline says, remembering what Hayley endured to birth Hope, the gift her daughter gave her when she was reborn. 

“But a hybrid no longer,” Klaus corrects. “When she tried to flee with my child, the curse was reactivated, and with new terms. Hayley remains in her wolf form, only becoming human upon the full moon.” 

He says the words matter-of-factly, like he’s not keeping Hope from her mother, like he isn’t trying to control his daughter’s future the way he once tried to control hers. Caroline remembers that night, dying of the bite he forced upon her, poison in her veins but the world at her fingertips, great beauty and art and a lifetime of possibilities, and all contingent on Klaus’s whim. She’d given in that night, wanting to live more than she wanted to be free, but she’s fought to sever the power he has over her. She’s here of her own volition, but Hope doesn’t have the same luxury. She only has this makeshift mother, but a woman who’ll fight for her, ensure she has all the things Caroline never had.

“She needs her mom,” Caroline insists.

Klaus smiles slyly and raises their joined hands to his mouth so he can press a gentle kiss to the back of hers. “She has you.”

It makes Caroline gasp, the opportunity he’s proposing. She can stay with him forever, watch Hope grow, raise her like her own. She can have the things Katherine stole from her: a child, a family, a normal life. She can be the girl she was at sixteen, before she died and came back to life, before she became the woman she didn’t realize she wanted to be. For a moment, she almost says yes, but then she remembers her mother at the cabin, the love shimmering in her eyes before the light went out. She sees Hayley staring at an empty cradle, her face contorting with agony, worry and pain weighing heavy on her heart. 

It’s a tempting offer but she’s a bigger person, twists out of his grasp and puts a healthy distance between them. “No,” she says softly. “The answer is no.” She holds a hand to her heart, and four years ago it would have been racing in panic, but it now lies silent in her lifeless chest. “I love your daughter. I might even die for her.” He opens his mouth but she holds up a hand to stop him. “We’re going to take Hope back to New Orleans and you’re going to fix things with Hayley and _I’m_ going to make sure you two idiots stop punishing your daughter because you can’t get along.” She stomps away before he can stop her and picks up Hope. “We’ll be in the lobby when you finally get your head out of your ass.”

It’s twenty minutes before he appears, twenty minutes of pacing and cuddling Hope and wondering if she’s pushed him too far, if a bellboy is lying in their suite, drained of his blood because she spoke the truth. When Klaus appears, there’s a bellboy trailing after him, pushing their luggage and seemingly no worse for wear. Caroline relaxes when she doesn’t see bite marks on his neck.

“You were right,” he say, comes to stand next to her while the hotel staff loads their luggage into the SUV. 

“I usually am,” she says and he laughs shortly, some of the tension easing between them.

“I know,” he says softly. “It’s one of my favorite things about you. There are few people who’ll speak so freely in my presence.” 

“That’s because they’re afraid you’ll stick a dagger in their chest or rip their hearts through their spines.” Her words are harsh but she doesn’t regret saying them. Klaus has always gotten his way through intimidation and threats, but it won’t work here, not if he wants to make things right for his daughter.

“I’m hoping you’ll teach me another way.” Caroline jerks her head up, finds him watching her with a shy smile. He looks young and vulnerable, not unlike the baby she holds to her heart. 

“Okay,” she says and his smile widens, threatens to split his face, and he’s suddenly so handsome she feels like she can’t catch her breath. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, takes a step forward while she takes one back until her heels hit the curb and there’s no where else to go. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to her mouth, over his laughing daughter’s head, and it’s just a brush of his lips over hers but it leaves her wanting more. 

She studies him while he straps Hope into the car seat, the curls springing up around his head in the humidity and the tendons flexing in his hands as he tugs at the buckles. She swallows hard and climbs into the front seat, wonders if there will ever be a time when she doesn’t want more.

 

* * *

 

They leave the car at the airport and take a flight instead, land in Tallahassee in mid-afternoon. There’s another SUV waiting for them when they land, but Caroline doesn’t question it, not when it means seven fewer hours trapped in the car. It’s not the company but the wasted time, time she can spend walking on the beach or basking in the sun, watching Hope play in the waves.

They drive ninety minutes before stopping for gas in Apalachicola, and while Klaus grumbles about the dealership forgetting to fill up the tank, Caroline takes a look around and decides to stay. She’s charmed by the New England feel to this sleepy Southern town, thinks it’s a good place to clear her head. It’s been a long day, a trying day, and she’s craving a few minutes of peace, sits on a bench outside a quaint B&B while Klaus books a room, lets the ocean breeze wash over her face, Hope’s curls tickling her cheeks. 

They walk into town for dinner, Klaus carrying Hope while Caroline totes the diaper bag, and even though she doesn’t need to eat, it’s another habit she won’t break; some of her best childhood memories are the rare occasions that her mother made it home for dinner. They choose a seafood restaurant with tables overlooking the street and order oysters and shrimp, fish for Hope, and Caroline flakes off pieces of snapper as the sun sets over the water. Klaus tells her that that the fish is fresh, he can remember the taste from his human days, and she smiles over her chardonnay, asks him to tell her more. 

It’s hard to tell in the growing darkness but Caroline swears that he blushes, cheeks flushing under her scrutiny, but he obliges her request and shares tales of dashing heroes and brave maidens, tells her of a life she never knew he led. She’s heard about his brother’s death and the ensuing spell, the curse that sprang forth from inside him the first time he lost control. She knows of Mikael and his wrath, the vengeance he unleashed on his own children for a thousand years; she was there when Esther tried to finish her husband’s dirty work. But tonight, Klaus only shares happy memories, builds a vivid world before he lost his soul, before he became the most powerful creature to walk the earth.

“What?” he asks when he catches her staring. 

“You should tell more stories to Hope.”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stares hard from over his wineglass.

Caroline tries again, employs honesty as her weapon. “She’ll already know the bad. Why not let her know that there’s good too?”

He glances at his daughter, gnawing on her fist while watching them with wide, innocent eyes, and brushes his hand through her hair. “You don’t think she’ll hate me.” He says it as a statement even though it’s a question.

“You’re surprisingly hard to hate.” Klaus’s eyes widen in surprise but she ducks her head and beckons the waitress for the dessert menu, downs her wine and orders an ice cream sundae so she doesn’t have to meet Klaus’s eyes. 

He carries Hope home, slumbering peacefully on his shoulder, and puts her in the playpen while Caroline gets ready for bed. The mattress shifts as he slides in behind her and she lies stock still, waiting for him to touch her or hold her or say something that makes her insides melt, but he only presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Sweet dreams,” he says against her skin before retreating to his side of the bed. 

Caroline falls into an easy sleep and dreams of a world where she’s felt loss but it doesn’t stop her from laughing. Laughing and smiling and carrying so much love in her heart that it threatens to burst. Klaus is at the center of all of it.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t need sleep, but Caroline’s eyes are still scratchy when Klaus opens the curtains. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he says, laughs when she pulls the covers over her head. It’s a bright morning, sunshine flooding their small room, and Caroline wants nothing more than to go back to sleep but Hope is laughing and it’s all the impetus she needs to get out of bed. Her time with Hope is running out and she doesn’t want to miss a second of it.

She dresses quickly while Klaus feeds his daughter, keeps her head down to hide her smile; he’s taking an active interest in his daughter and she didn’t even need to prompt him. There’s a chartered sailboat waiting for them at the dock and Klaus shows off more of his many skills, expertly sailing their boat across the bay. They land on St. George Island and head for the beach, spend the morning investigating tide pools and reading while Hope naps, hunting for seashells in the fine-grained sand. Caroline holds one to her ear, listens for the rumble of the sea within its spirals, but hears nothing but a seagull screaming from the open ocean.

“It’s not a conch, love,” Klaus says and Caroline looks over to find him lounging in the sand, Hope asleep on his bare chest. 

It takes her a moment to respond, to look past the handsome man with a baby sleeping on his chest, her cheek pressed against his once beating heart. The woven strands of silver twined around the Hope’s tiny wrist catch her eye too, glinting in the hard afternoon sunlight. 

“What’s the deal with the bracelet?”

Klaus glances down, careful not to jostle the baby, frowning as he realizes what Caroline’s referring to. “My daughter is a witch as well as a wolf,” he explains. “My Aunt Dahlia, told me – ”

“I didn’t know you had an aunt.”

Klaus smiles tightly. “A sister too. I gained more family and all their enemies. Long ago, my mother made her sister a promise, that in return for fertility, Dahlia could claim all firstborn Mikaelsons, channel their power and live forever.” 

“This sounds oddly familiar…”

He smiles again. “Perhaps I better understand your reluctance to build a hybrid army with Elena’s blood.” The smile falls from his face. “But for my child, I did not hold back. Dahlia is dead but her curse remains. As a firstborn, Hope is a powerful witch, too powerful to control her magic.” He twists the end of the bracelet between his fingers. “This talisman keeps her from harming others, from harming herself.”

“You can’t keep her chained up forever.”

“So I’ve been told.” 

“But did you listen?”

“I always listen to you.”

He turns to check on Hope and Caroline lifts the shell back to her ear, searches for answers in its depths. Klaus might have started this journey but she’s the one choosing their path. She’s terrified at where it might lead.

 

* * *

 

Klaus shakes her awake just after dawn with a brush of his lips over her brow. Hope lies next to her, shaking a stuffed crab they picked up at a toyshop the day before, and Caroline bites her lip as she climbs from the bed. She knew this day was coming, but it’s harder than she expected, letting go of the world she’s created with the people in this room, the life she didn’t think she’d get to live. Hope watches her with Klaus’s eyes but smiles with Hayley’s mouth, and it’s the reminder she needs – this isn’t her life, no matter how much she wants it to be.

She gets dressed and takes Hope to the car while Klaus settles the bill. He doesn’t push when they get back on the road, doesn’t say a word or question why she doesn’t either, just steers the SUV through endless stretches of palm trees and shrubs and lets her stare listlessly out the window. Hope’s passed out in the backseat, the car’s rolling motion having lulled her into sleep, and Caroline counts license plates and mile markers for the six hours it takes to pass into Mississippi. She’s quiet even when they stop to feed Hope and let her work off excess energy.

Caroline draws her knees to her chest and rests her chin on her arms, half-heartedly watching Hope army crawl across her blanket. Her little face is scrunched up in concentration as she flails, tries to find the strength to make it to her knees. She lets out a little mewl and drops to her elbows, drags herself across the blanket on her belly so she’s right in front of Caroline. “Hey baby girl,” Caroline says softly, clucks Hope under her chin. 

Hope laughs, bright and full of glee, and smiles up at Caroline. She picks up the baby and gives her bottom a little swat so she’ll start crawling in Klaus’s direction, watches the cars go by and lets the noisy parking lot fill her ears, anything to distract from Hope’s joyful laugh. 

It’s easier when they’re back in the car. Hope quickly falls asleep and it’s almost possible to forget that she’s there, forget that Caroline won’t witness the first time she crawls for real, will never see the pride on Hope’s face when she takes her first steps. Caroline closes her eyes and leans back against the headrest, tries to will herself into sleep. She doesn’t know which pains her more: that she’s again losing something she wants, or that she thought things could change.

She’s still mulling it over when she wakes an hour or so from New Orleans, grabs Klaus’s arm and orders him to get off at the next exit. He doesn’t scold her, although the sudden movement causes him to swerve into the next lane, but he doesn’t shake her hand away either, even though she’s gripping his forearm hard enough to bruise. 

Instead, he turns off the highway the way she requested and keeps driving until they’re parking beside a little yellow cottage at the edge of the sea. There’s no bellhop or staff to carry their bags, just a smiling proprietor that takes their payment for the night. There’s a small porch and uneven wooden floor sprinkled with sand, and Caroline can smell salt in the walls, feel the beach woven into the cotton bedspread. There’s mosquito-netting hanging from the ceiling and sun-bleached furniture and Caroline kicks off her shoes to dig her toes into the sand. 

Klaus comes up behind her, nuzzles her neck while they stare out at the ocean. “We have the night.”

Caroline shakes her head. “The full moon is tomorrow.”

He smiles against her skin. “We’ll leave a first light.”

She turns to face him, squints against the sunlight as she takes in the familiar lines of his face. “Promise,” she says and he spins her in his arms, takes Hope and dashes into the waves.

It’s his turn to squint into the sunlight, shades his eyes with one hand while cradling his daughter with the other. “Aren’t you coming?” His voice carries like laughter on the sea breeze and it lifts away her fear, her despair, the sorrow she’s trying so hard to keep at bay. The water is cold but the sun is warm, and the waves…the waves wash away the last of her grief.

 

* * *

 

That night, Caroline curls up on the couch while Klaus tells Hope a bedtime story. 

_“Once upon a time there was a Wolf King who fought a war for the most precious treasure in all the kingdom, his beautiful little princess.”_ She glances at Hope, eyes drooping as she fights to stay awake, and then at her father, gazing at his daughter with nothing but love in his eyes. She knew, in the end, that her own father loved her, but never enough to risk himself to keep her safe.

Hope’s eyelids flutter as she finally falls into sleep and Klaus’s voice drops to almost a whisper. _“But victory came at a price – allies lost, new enemies made. And so, the Wolf King stood alone – happily ever after it was not."_ Caroline scoots a little closer, rests her head on his shoulder and links her arm through his. She knows the things he’s done, the person he’s been, but she wants him to know, that despite it all, he’s not alone.

Klaus smiles down at his daughter, eyes crinkling as he takes her in, and Caroline smiles with him, this little miracle that came from so much pain and carnage. _“But sometimes, even the worst endings, are not really endings at all. And you should know, my littlest wolf, that even when all seems burned to ash, in our story, there is always another chapter to be told.”_

It’s Caroline’s turn to cup his cheek in her hand and lean in, brush her mouth over his for a fraction of a second. He’s holding a baby and can’t do much with his hands, but he changes the angle of his jaw and the kiss deepens, becomes heated, mouths open and tongues tangling, and if not for Hope, Caroline knows he’d have her naked and willing in thirty seconds flat. 

But Hope is there, caught between them, and he only pulls away to smile at her. “I took your advice.”

Caroline flushes but doesn’t look away. “You did good.” He seems surprised by her words and she realizes it might be the first time he’s heard them. “You _were_ good,” she adds.

He tilts up her chin and kisses her again. “I learned from the best.” Careful not to wake Hope, he helps her to her feet and takes her hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

Caroline nods, ducks her head to hide her tears, but follows him to the bedroom, prepares to fall asleep with this family for the last time.

 

* * *

 

Caroline sleeps fitfully, but Hope is fussy and wakes the next morning just after 5:00 am. It’s not like her to wake in the night and Caroline panics, convinced she has a fever, but when she checks, Hope’s temperature is completely normal. Her diaper does need to be changed but even then, she won’t fall back asleep.

Dawn is just breaking outside, pale streams of light slipping through the clouds, and Caroline grabs their hoodies and trails her feet in the surf as she and Hope take a walk along the beach. There’s no one around to notice if Caroline cuddles the baby a little too close, cheek to cheek as the water laps at her ankles. She knows what’s coming but she wants to hold on just a little bit longer, to have the chance to say goodbye.

“Thank you for letting me spend this time with you,” she whispers into Hope’s hair, pulls back to examine the baby’s face, Hayley’s mouth and Klaus’s eyes, a nose she thinks might have come from Elijah, and presses a soft kiss to Hope’s forehead, hopes she’ll never be anyone but herself. 

Klaus is waiting when they return to the cottage, hands tucked in his pajama bottoms, and he smiles tentatively as Caroline approaches. “How are you?” he asks, eyes searching her face. 

“I’m ready,” she says, gives Hope one last hug before returning her to Klaus’s arms. “Let’s bring your daughter home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone hoping that the story would expand, you win! The main part is done, but there is an epilogue. Expect it up in a week or so. Thank you again for the amazing feedback. I so appreciate the support. Title and quote courtesy of Arcade Fire. Enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

 

* * *

 

Caroline feels the first raindrops as she buckles Hope into her car seat, a slow trickle down the back of her neck. She glances up and while the sky overhead is clear and backlit by the threat of a blistering summer sun, there are black clouds rolling in off the sea, the water already churning a dark, stormy gray. 

She grits her teeth and slides into the passenger seat, avoids looking at the looming storm. “We’d better get moving.”

Klaus nods and starts the engine, keeps his eyes on the road while Caroline watches the sky, heavy with rain and threatening to burst at any moment. It’s appropriate, she thinks, storm clouds moving in on her sunny day; she and Klaus might be doing what needs to be done, but neither of them is happy about it.

Yet, even Klaus can’t outrun Mother Nature, and the clouds part with a loud crack, lightning splitting the roiling sky. Caroline grabs the door handle, shuddering as the thunder follows with an angry clap. In the backseat, Hope lets out a terrified wail. Caroline tries to soothe her, but it’s a nearly impossible task when the rain is coming down in sheets and pinging so loudly against the roof that it’s impossible to hear her own voice. She feels on the verge of tears herself, separated from the battling elements by a thin skin of metal, powerless to help a crying baby. It’s not how she wanted to spend her last day with Klaus and Hope.

Without prompting, Klaus pulls over and turns off the engine, unbuckles his wailing daughter and pulls her into his arms. “It’s okay, Little Wolf,” he croons. “Daddy’s here. Shhhh…”

Hope quickly calms down, tear tracks glimmering on her cheeks but seemingly content in her father’s arms. And perhaps more important, he looks content having her there. Caroline smiles at him over the baby’s head and it’s no longer a surprise when he smiles back. She ruffles Hope’s curls and earns a belly laugh in return, the kind of infectious giggle that erupts in the adults too, and soon the car is filled with laughter even as it shakes from the force of the storm. 

They watch the rain in comfortable silence, Caroline’s head resting on Klaus’s shoulder while Hope sleeps in his arms, and when it’s over, Caroline insists on a quick walk to stretch her legs. 

She tilts her face to the sky, now bathed in milky shades of pink and gold, breathes in a world scrubbed clean. She loves the smell right after it rains, how everything feels new, like anything is possible. It feels like a fresh start.

Klaus comes to stand beside her, Hope still cradled against his chest. “Après moi, le déluge,” he mumbles and Caroline struggles to remember her high school French. 

“After me, the flood?” she asks, assuming it’s a glib comment in the wake of that killer storm, but the tense set of his jaw makes her think otherwise. 

“It’s often attributed to Louis XV, although without any definitive proof. He ruined France, set the stage for the ensuing revolution. He knew the damage he’d leave in his wake and he didn’t care.” Klaus stares down at his daughter, dreaming peacefully in his arms, and holds her tighter. “What have I done?”

Caroline watches the sun peek through the clouds, sighs in awe as a rainbow arcs across the sky, and takes it as a sign. She cups his tense jaw in her hands and presses a kiss to his mouth, soft and sweet but filled with promise. “It doesn’t matter what you did before because now you have me. It’s my turn to be strong.”

She drives the rest of the way to New Orleans while he watches the scenery pass by and Hope giggles to herself and plays with her toes. Every now and then, when she squeals particularly loud, Caroline catches Klaus smiling out of the corner of her eye.

The city falls upon them steamy and seamy, a fine mist rising up from the broken cobblestones in the wake of the storm. It’s an old city, a city that never should have existed to begin with, and Caroline feels more comfortable than she should in this unfamiliar place. She knows what it’s like to fight to survive, to exist, to _thrive_ despite so much working against her. She thinks she could like it here.

Her instincts are confirmed even when Klaus directs her to an unremarkable building with a set of wrought-iron balconies and chipped brick walls, tells her to park at the curb and wait for him while he retrieves Hope. When he’s ready, he picks up his daughter and takes Caroline’s hand, leads her through a heavy wooden door and through an ornate passageway. The scent of magnolias hangs heavy in the air and Caroline’s careful to keep to the slate walk and avoid the well-kept flowerbeds lining the path. She mostly focuses on the taut line of Klaus’s back, way he’s holding his head a little too straight, his shoulders a little too tight, and makes sure to keep up. He’s about two seconds from snapping at the first Mikaelson to cross his path and it’s not how they should be starting this reunion.

The hallway opens into a wide atrium filled with flowers and fountains, three angry vampires, and a pair of fuming werewolves. She assumes the smirking vampire on the fringe is Marcel, keen eyes taking in the show.

“Welcome home, brother,” Elijah says, elegant and composed in his slim-fitting suit, but there’s a razor-sharp edge to his tone that betrays his cool exterior. Caroline’s enhanced vision also catches the pulse throbbing in his left temple. Klaus is at his most dangerous when he’s calm and collected, but there are few things more terrifying than Elijah losing control. Klaus tucks Hope a little closer as he steps into the room.

“Elijah,” Klaus says, eyebrows raised at Rebekah’s scowling face. “Sister. I see you’re back to your old self.”

Rebekah flicks blonde hair over her shoulder. “I prefer my original body for settling debts.”

Hayley is on him before he can respond, ripping their daughter from his arms and holding her tight, burying her face in Hope’s curls. “Baby girl,” she says through her tears. “I missed you.”

Even standing a few feet behind Klaus, Caroline doesn’t miss Hayley’s diamond ring catching in the light, or her broad, bearded husband wrapping her in his arms. They stand together for a long moment, a little family, while Klaus stares at a point over Hayley’s shoulder and the pulse in Elijah’s temple hits a tempo even a human could see. Finally, Hayley looks up, eyes glowing an eerie yellow as she takes in her daughter’s father. “I should kill you.”

He shrugs. “I’d like to see you try. You kidnapped Hope, I kidnapped Hope…she’s home and now we’re square.”

“You put a curse on me, kept me away from my daughter for months on end, and now you want to make amends?” Her grip on the baby tightens and Hope cries out. Caroline knots her hands together to keep from intervening. It’s not her job, not anymore, and Hayley quickly releases her hold, cooing to her daughter until she’s smiling again.

Klaus’s voice is quiet but matches Elijah’s razor-sharp tone. “We both want what’s best for her. Working together to achieve that is the right choice.”

Everyone in the room looks at him like he’s gone insane, but Caroline grins, chest pumping full of smug satisfaction at the man she’s made of an insolent boy. She didn’t set out to fix him but she’s still proud of the person he’s become, the father he’ll be to his daughter. It feels good to give another little girl a happy ending.

It’s then that they notice her, when Klaus looks over his shoulder to give credit where it’s due, and Hayley’s face twists into a furious sneer. “Did you enjoy playing house with my daughter?”

Klaus’s hand falls low on Caroline’s back as she moves to stand in front of him, clings to the base of her spine like it’s there to prop her up. She doesn’t need it, but it’s nice to know it’s there. “It wasn’t like that, Hayley. I – ”

Hayley takes a step forward but her lumberjack of a husband stops her with a hand on her arm and a few soothing words in her ear. “I’ll deal with you later.” She turns to Klaus, eyes blazing. “You and me, we’re having words now.” 

She stalks to the interior of the house and the other Mikaelsons follow like ducks in a row. Klaus moves to take Caroline's hand but she steps out of his reach. “I’m gonna sit this one out.”

“Caroline,” he starts, but she shakes her head and blinks back tears. She _wants_ to be with him and Hope, but it’s no longer her place. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

“I got you here,” she says softly. “I brought Hope home, but you need to do the rest on your own.” 

“Caroline…” 

“You can do this,” she tells him. “Make it work with Hayley. Give your daughter everything she deserves.”

She’s gone before he can catch her, uses her superspeed to her advantage, but slows to a walk when she’s standing on the broken sidewalk in the bright sunshine. The humidity is the only indication that a storm recently swept through town, but she doesn’t notice the heat or the damp, only the burning need to numb the pain. She knows it’s the right thing, letting Klaus solve his custody issues without her, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s lost something she’ll never have again. Hope, she realizes, both the person and the way the baby made her feel. Good. Clean. Like she was worth something. She blinks back another round of tears and jerks open the door to the nearest bar.

Rousseau’s is dark and seedy and exactly what she was looking for, so she slides onto a stool and signals for the bartender.

A pretty blonde tightens her apron and smiles politely. “What’s your poison?”

It suddenly requires too much energy to think. “Surprise me.”

“You got it.” 

Caroline takes stock of the place while the blonde fixes her drink, but mostly studies her appearance in the smudged mirror over the bar. Her hair is sleek and smooth and her face eternally young, but her eyes betray her outward youth. They’re aching and haunted, a dark fin lurking under two bright pools of blue. They’re too old for a girl who’ll always be seventeen.

“One Sazerac on the house.” The bartender slides a red-tinged drink with a fringe of lemon peel across the counter. She smiles knowingly.

“Thanks,” Caroline says, swallows the drink in one long gulp.

“Bad day?”

“More like a bad life.” She knows her mom would disapprove of drowning in self-pity, but the liquid courage is helping avoid that voice in her head. She’s lost so much this past month, her mom and Hope, but also the things she won’t let herself want, all the things she thought she’d have before a girl wearing her best friend’s face changed the course of her life.

“I know what that’s like.” It’s midday and the place is mostly empty so the girl – Camille her nametag reads – rests her elbows on the bar and leans in for some girl talk. “My brother died two years ago and then I lost my uncle a year later. I keep making terrible decisions when it comes to men. There was this body swapping incident.” She laughs without humor. “My life’s a mess.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Caroline pauses. “My mom died a few weeks ago. It’s been horrible.”

Camille’s eyes round in sympathy. “I’m a good listener if you want to talk about it.”

Caroline shakes her head. “No, I think I’ve made peace with it. She was sick and now she’s not. I miss her so much but I’m glad she’s not in pain anymore.”

Camille’s quiet a long moment, then quickly pours two shots of whiskey. “Sláinte,” she says and downs the shot. Caroline nods and downs her own shot.

“Irish?” she asks while Camille cleans up the glasses.

“Half. I go by Cami most of the time. Keeps the creepers from trying to ask me out in French.”

“You must get that a lot.”

Cami shrugs. “Like I said, I have terrible taste in men.”

A week ago Caroline would have readily agreed, but a vision of Klaus and Hope splashing in the ocean pops into her head, and she revises her position to complicated. “I do too, but you go first. Tell me about it.” 

“Where to start?” Cami muses. “I meet this guy and everything about him screams bad idea, but then he does something, something sweet and true, and I see this different side of him and fall all over again.” Caroline flushes, realizes it’s exactly how she’d describe her relationship with Klaus. He isn’t perfect, but when they’re together, it feels real. Honest. Like it’s time to stop running.

“I have someone like that too. It’s why I’m here, actually. He showed up on my doorstep and needed a favor and I couldn’t say no.” She pauses, stumbles on the truth. “I didn’t want to say no.”

A familiar figure appears. “I’m glad you didn’t.” Caroline looks up and Klaus is behind her, watching her closely in the mirror, one hand resting loosely on her hip. Across the bar, Cami straightens and stares at them with narrowed eyes.

“This is the guy?” 

Caroline swallows, eyes shifting from Cami to Klaus and back again. She shrugs off his hand. “You weren’t lying about having a type.”

Klaus frowns but doesn’t try to put his hand back. “Hello, Camille.” 

She crosses her arms across her chest and glares at him. “Klaus. I was just getting to know your girlfriend.”

“I’m not – ”

“I never lied to you,” Klaus says softly. “Caroline and I…we weren't together but we always find our way back to each other.” He catches Caroline’s eye in the mirror and she ducks her head to hide her smile. She likes Cami and this moment has to suck; there’s no need to make it hurt more.

Cami’s eyes shift between them for a few seconds. “And I thought it was daddy issues holding you back. I guess it’s hard to start something new when you never let go of the past.” She signs heavily. “I get it, but could you stay away for a while? I need a break from this.”

He regards her seriously. “Davina released the Crescent Wolves from their curse and they’re looking for retribution. You represent the human faction in the Quarter, Camille, and we’ll need your help in the days ahead.”

“And I’ll be there, but this?” She gestures between them. “I need a break from _you_. The O’Connell psychology clinic is closed for business.” Still, she smiles at Caroline. “It was nice meeting you.” She gives Klaus a meaningful look, one that says _stay away until I find a way for you to pay for breaking my heart_ , and leaves them alone.

Caroline stares up at Klaus. “That could have gone better.”

He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “This was the last place I thought you’d be.” He glances around the grubby room. “Why did you come here?”

“It had air-conditioning and alcohol.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She takes a calming breath, careful to keep her voice from reaching Cami’s ears. “We played house for a few days but that’s all it was – playing a game. I’m not Hope’s mother and she’s not my daughter. I had to leave before I forgot that.”

“She needs you.” He pauses, raises her chin so she’s looking into his eyes. “I need you.”

“You worked out a deal with Hayley, right?” 

He nods slowly. “Yes, but – ”

“So mission accomplished. You got your daughter home, made peace with her mom. I…I’m not a part of this anymore.”

His fingers slide down her neck and tangle in her hair almost painfully, tilt her head so his eyes are boring into hers. “Don’t you get it? You’re a part of me. No matter where you go, no matter how far or how long, I always find you.” His mouth hovers over hers. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t let you go. I don’t want to let you go.” 

The world falls away, the noisy bar and nosy ex across the room, and it’s just the rough stubble on Klaus’s cheeks and the brown waves of his hair and the yearning in his eyes, the need and want and _fear_ that she’ll say no. 

And then, it’s the easiest thing in the world, cupping his jaw in her hand and smiling against his mouth. “Okay,” she says. “I’m yours.”

 

* * *

 

It’s different the second time, slow and steady, without the frenetic want, the desperate worry that it might never happen again. Klaus’s hand is firm around Caroline’s as he leads her up the stairs, his gaze confident as he shuts the door behind them and leans in to kiss her.

His mouth is hard but the kiss is gentle, fingers pressing on her jaw with the right amount of pressure so she falls back against the door with a low moan. He’s smiling when she opens her eyes, that newly confident grin. 

“Hi,” he says softly and brushes her hair back from her face.

“Hi,” she whispers, feels suddenly shy under his steady gaze. He’s always been able to read her well but this close, it’s like he’s seeing inside her, all her hopes and fears laid bare across the open expanse of her face. 

She knows she wants this – him – but it feels like too much. She’s just started figuring out who she is and what she wants – she can’t lose herself again. Except when she looks in Klaus’s eyes, there’s trust there, honesty and loyalty and something that looks very much like love. The force of it scares her, and yet, it also gives her strength. There is so much she can do if she doesn’t have to go about it on her own. 

Her heart – literal or figurative, she doesn’t care – skips a beat and she kisses him hard and hot and filled with everything she feels. She lets go, takes the final step into the abyss, drowns in the emotion shimmering in his eyes. 

She doesn’t fall, not when he’s there to catch her.

 

* * *

 

Caroline wakes in an unfamiliar bed, but she doesn’t panic, even if it takes a moment to find her bearings. After the week she’s had, a quick lapse in memory is a minor annoyance. She can hear Klaus too. He’s too far for her to make out the exact words, but she can hear his low growl and Elijah’s clipped syllables, a slightly accented female voice cutting in every now and then. Maybe the missing sister? She makes a mental note to ask later.

After a quick trip to a bathroom the size of her bedroom in Mystic Falls, she checks out her surroundings, honing in on the easel set up near the balcony to take advantage of natural light. Caroline studies a half-finished painting of a local wharf, then notices a set of paintings stacked against the far wall. There are easily a dozen of them, and she turns over the first, catching only a flash of blonde hair before she’s interrupted by a knock on the door.

“One minute!” she calls out and reluctantly lets go of the painting, slips into Klaus’s long-sleeved t-shirt and pads to the door.

She expected Rebekah or Elijah, maybe a nightwalking servant with fresh clothes, but never Hayley. She stands awkwardly in the hall, holding her daughter while Hope chews on lock of her mother’s dark hair. If Hayley notices, she doesn’t let on. Despite her pained expression, Caroline can see how happy she is to have her baby back in her arms. 

“Can I come in?” Hayley asks. She looks just as awkward inside the room and she shifts Hope’s weight for something to do. “I’ve never actually been in here. Klaus and I didn’t talk much when we were at the plantation, and once we were here…” She trails off and smiles nervously. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Let’s start over.” Caroline leads her to a set of wing chairs, careful to cross her legs when she sits down so she doesn't put on a show. Klaus’s shirt is roomy, but also only reaches to mid-thigh. 

Hayley takes the opposite chair and adjusts Hope so she’s facing out, gnawing on a tiny fist until Hayley hands her the stuffed rabbit. The delight on the baby’s face is familiar and Caroline starts to feel more at ease, until Hayley brushes Hope’s curls from her face and the baby laughs in return, a coil of jealousy curling through Caroline’s belly. She knows Hayley only wants to be with her daughter now that she has her back, but it still hurts seeing how easily Hope has adjusted to being with her mother. 

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” Caroline crosses her arms and regards Hayley steadily. They didn’t get along in Mystic Falls and she can’t imagine it will be any better now, not after their confrontation downstairs. She mostly hopes Hayley will quickly get to the point so she can get on with her day.

“I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye,” Hayley starts. “And I’m sorry for how I acted before. I was angry with Klaus and took it out on you.” She smiles down at her daughter. “I know you’re the reason he brought her home.”

Caroline’s cheeks flush from the unexpected praise. “It was the right thing to do.”

“Maybe. But I’m sure it wasn’t easy standing up to Klaus.” Hayley pauses, tears glinting in her green eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much for bringing my baby home.” 

“You’re welcome.” Caroline isn’t quite sure what to do – hug Hayley? Pat her hand? – so she smiles warmly instead, reaches out to tug on Hope’s closed fist, receives a belly laugh in return that goes a long way to break the tension in the room. 

“She likes you.”

Caroline lets go of Hope’s hand. “We had a lot of time to bond when we were on the road.”

“I know. It’s actually why I’m here.” Caroline glances up and the tears are gone from Hayley’s eyes, replaced with gratitude and maybe a bit of admiration. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was so scared, not only about having a baby but the responsibility of raising one. I didn’t know anything about being a mom.” She strokes a hand over Hope’s hair. “I think I’m doing okay, but I’m still learning.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

Hayley takes a deep breath. “I’d like you to be Hope’s godmother.”

“Me?” Despite her adventures over the past few days, she has even less experience with parenthood than Hayley.

Hayley nods. “Tyler told me about your mother. He said she was smart and strong and never backed down from doing what was right. He said she wasn’t always easy, but that she loved you so much. That’s what I want for my daughter. I’m hoping you’ll show us how.”

It’s a long moment before Caroline can speak, let alone see through the sheen of tears pooling in her eyes. “Of course,” she whispers, feels the final vestiges of grief lift from her heart. She’ll always miss her mom but Caroline can’t think of a better way to honor her than taking the best parts of her and giving them to someone else. She smiles tearily into Hope’s face, Klaus’s eyes and Hayley’s mouth but maybe something of herself in the baby’s sweet expression. As long as she walks the earth, she’ll do whatever it takes to keep it there.

Balancing Hope on her hip, Hayley gets up and motions for Caroline to do the same, wraps her in an awkward hug. It’s short and uncomfortable, but they’re both laughing when they pull back and Caroline doesn’t mind, thinks they’ll only get better with practice. 

Hayley pauses in the doorway. “You should know, I haven’t told Rebekah yet. I can’t guarantee how she’ll react.”

Caroline groans, hopes the revelation doesn’t involve an impromptu cheerleading contest. “I can handle Rebekah.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah,” Caroline says and clucks Hope under her chin one more time. “I’ll be here.”

 

* * *

 

The sun doesn’t set the same way in New Orleans. 

Back home, the sun slips from the sky to close out the day but here, it opens a new chapter. The city comes alive under the cover of darkness, so much energy that the streets practically vibrate with it. Caroline’s never experienced a place like this before but she doesn’t doubt her choice in coming here. Wherever this journey takes her, she won’t be going at it alone.

She hears Klaus before she sees him, continues watching the lights and people while he comes up behind her and presses a butterfly kiss to her throat.

“You spoke to Hayley?”

Caroline rests her head against his chest, leans into him and lets him carry her. “You should have said something.”

His chuckle rumbles against her back. “She wanted it to be a surprise. I assume you agreed.”

“And I assume you worked things out with her.”

“I think so.” He rests his hands on her shoulders and turns her to face him. “Whatever progress we made is because of you.”

“It was the right thing to do,” she repeats.

“No, it was what _you_ would do.” He looks like he wants to kiss her, and he does, a tender brush of his mouth over hers. “I’ve made a tentative truce with Hayley and we’ll try to raise Hope together.” His expression is regretful. “I can't leave New Orleans. I know I promised you the world, but right now, this is all I can give you. I’d understand if you want to leave.” 

Once, she would have taken him up on the offer, returned to Whitmore and carried on like the college girl she wanted to be, but she’s no longer interested in that life. She can’t pretend it’s enough, not when there’s genuine beauty waiting for her. If she wants, she can audit classes at Tulane, or write a novel, or take up gardening. She can hold Hope close and learn to like Hayley and practice her French with Elijah. She can do anything she wants, and more than anything, she wants this.

She tangles her fingers into his hair, looks deep into his eyes so he can see the commitment in hers. “You promised me a thousand birthdays too. I can wait.”

“You’re sure?”

He’s never given her a choice before and she’s never seen him so scared. “I don’t need Tokyo or Rome. Everything I want is right here.”

“Strong, beautiful, full of light…” he murmurs and dips his head to kiss her. Maybe, for the first time, she believes him. 

Once, he claimed he’d be her last love. She intends to take him up on the offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late delivery, but it’s done. Yay! And with this fic wrapped up, I can focus on finishing “We Own the Sky.” Title and courtesy of Arcade Fire. Enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> 1). I’m on a break from “We Own the Sky”. Not a permanent break, but a Ross-and-Rachel-type break. I will return shortly. 2). I watch “The Originals” but gave up on TVD in early season four – this fic is based on prospective plotlines from the former, what I gathered from promos for the latter. 3). Non-humble brag: I reread “Paradise Circus” recently and it’s awesome! You guys, I can’t believe I wrote something that good (and likely never will again). But it gave me the itch to write more Klaroline and I did! 4). Title and quote courtesy of Arcade Fire. Enjoy.


End file.
